


for too long now

by MermaidMarie



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressed Kyan Reki, M/M, Making Up, Post Episode 9, Sad Hasegawa Langa, actually talking about feelings, i watched the new episode and wanted to lie on the floor, look i'm not a patient person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMarie/pseuds/MermaidMarie
Summary: After the race, Langa shows up at Reki's house, because maybe if they actually talk, they can fix what's broken.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 16
Kudos: 376





	for too long now

**Author's Note:**

> I am certain I'm not the only person that watched Episode 9 and decided they didn't have the patience to wait for these two to Simply Talk To One Another, but here we are.  
> guys, waiting a week between episodes is going to kill me, i can't live like this, how did i used to do this with shows

Each step felt heavy as Reki walked home.

It wasn’t worth it anymore. He wanted to be a part of it, and he couldn’t be, and it hurt too much to try and pretend like he could. Better to get out now, before he ended up some pathetic spectator, desperately trying to cling to people who’d long since left him behind.

So Reki let go first. He was scared, and he was alone, and he felt worthless. He just wanted to go home. Lock himself in his room, alone, and deal with the fact of his failure. He didn’t belong there anymore. Maybe he’d never belonged there to begin with, and this was just serving to make that clear.

He’d been kidding himself, thinking he could ever be anything special, like the rest of them.

Reki had been right. He and Langa weren’t a good match. Why bother trying to force it? It was only going to get harder. It was going to get harder to pretend, and then it was going to get harder to let go.

Langa wasn’t afraid. _Langa_ didn’t hesitate. Langa didn’t lose.

Langa could fly. He could do the most amazing things—he kept getting better, he kept reaching up, and Reki wasn’t even sure if he had to try anymore. Everything Langa did ended up beautiful somehow. There was no way to watch him without feeling that glow of awe.

The glow of awe, paired with the certainty that he was leagues above anywhere you could ever hope to be. That’s what it was like.

It was bad luck, Reki thought, that Langa just happened to meet _him_ first. It would’ve been better if he’d just met someone of his same caliber instead. It seemed laughably ridiculous now that Reki had been the one to teach Langa how to skate in the first place.

He should’ve met someone better than Reki. It would’ve been better for Langa, and it would’ve saved Reki the hurt.

It didn’t matter anymore. Soon enough, Reki would just be a less-than-memorable part of Langa’s past. His name wouldn’t be worth mentioning. Langa could keep flying, and Reki could walk away.

_Fuck._ Reki just wished it didn’t _hurt_ like this.

It would be fine, whatever, he’d be able to live with it. It would suck for a while, but eventually, it would hurt less. He’d be fine.

It would get easier. It would get easier to sit next to Langa in class, to watch his reflection. It would get easier to avoid him, because Langa would stop trying soon enough. It would get easier to watch him with everyone else, easier to see how magnetic Langa was, how much everyone loved him, easier to deal with how Langa would find other people, people who _were_ good enough for him. It would get easier to accept that Reki could never have hoped to be good enough for Langa at all.

It would get easier, and Reki could live with it.

He’d be _fine._

He was always fine, in the end.

Reki must’ve gone home.

Why would he have left like that?

Langa thought—

He didn’t know what he thought. He thought…

Maybe he thought that the fact that Reki had _been there_ meant something. He’d called Langa’s name. Langa had met his gaze, seen the look in his eyes, and things made sense again. In an instant, things _mattered_ again, because Reki was there. Langa’s heart started racing again, everything felt brighter, less heavy—there was joy, and beauty, and wonder again.

Because Reki was _there._

So why did he leave?

Langa felt lost. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong, why Reki would be there and then _not_ be there. What could’ve happened? He’d thought…

It didn’t matter what he’d thought. Reki wasn’t there anymore.

He’d exhausted the options asking around, and no one knew where Reki was or where he’d gone.

Honestly, Langa could pretty clearly gather that Reki showing up only to leave without saying goodbye didn’t exactly imply that he was any more interested in talking to Langa than he had been all week. Reki was still avoiding him—Langa hoped that him showing up meant maybe he wasn’t anymore, but he was.

Reki wanted to be left alone. Or, more specifically, he wanted _Langa_ to leave him alone.

And part of Langa felt like he should. If Reki didn’t want him around, he shouldn’t bother him. He should respect that Reki wanted space from him. That Reki didn’t want to talk.

But Langa’s patience was wearing thin, and he didn’t _understand,_ and he didn’t _care_ that Reki didn’t want him around. He had to try _something,_ because this wasn’t working.

Langa didn’t want to lose him.

He figured his best bet was just to go to Reki’s house. It was late, but Reki would almost certainly still be up.

Langa walked, holding the pieces of his broken board close to his chest. It had to be repairable. Reki could fix the board, and they could fix whatever had snapped between them. It wasn’t over. Nothing was lost.

Langa had to believe that.

It hurt too much to not believe that.

Reki was lying on his bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling, wishing it were easier to sleep.

It used to be that he couldn’t sleep after S because of all the excitement. It used to be that he was too riled up, too full of ideas for next time. His mind would be moving too fast, grasping at what went wrong and what went right, what he could change or improve. He’d jot down notes about how it had gone, doodle out feelings, sketch plans for next time.

But there wasn’t going to be a next time, and whatever excitement Reki used to feel was beyond burnt out.

He was empty. There was nothing. And he still couldn’t sleep.

He sighed, loud in the silence of his empty room.

It would just take time, he assumed. To get used to this.

He wanted it to feel okay faster. The harsh reality of his own inadequacy had been enough to swallow without the dwelling heaviness that followed. Reki had times in the past where he’d struggled to enjoy skating, struggled to enjoy _anything,_ but it had never been quite like this before.

The periods of depression he’d dealt with before had been dull and gray, lacking in the emotional depth he’d come to look forward to when it came to all the things he loved. This was different, because the depth was still there, but it was dark and muddied, and instead of the crisp, bright joy, he was just…

_Sad._ And hopeless. And lonely.

He almost missed the apathy of depression, because at least that didn’t ache in his chest like this did.

Reki wasn’t sure how much time passed with him staring into nothing, but eventually, there was a small tapping sound at his window. He thought maybe it had started raining— _and how appropriate would that feel—_ but the tapping got more insistent and more deliberate.

_Like knocking,_ he realized.

Frowning, Reki pushed himself up and tentatively headed to the window.

When he opened it, there was Langa.

Reki hated that moment where he couldn’t help the swell in his chest, the instant comforting warmth at seeing him. He couldn’t stop the tug in his heart at the sight of Langa’s vivid blue eyes through the darkness—Reki was in the habit of being happy when he got to see Langa.

He tried his best to tamp down those feelings. It was pointless now.

“Why are you here?” Reki said.

Langa’s expression tightened a little, and Reki almost felt bad for the edge in his tone, but he didn’t quite have the energy for that guilt.

“I needed…” Langa started, his voice soft.

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Reki sighed, heart hurting.

“Just… go home, Langa,” Reki said, his voice flat and empty.

Langa frowned, and the hesitance was briefly covered by a familiar spark of stubborn defiance. “No. I’m not leaving.”

Reki leaned further out the window. Langa was flushed like he’d been running and he was holding his board awkwardly close to his chest, like he was afraid to drop it.

“What do you want?” Reki asked. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Langa took a breath, like he was steeling himself.

“I need you to take a look at my board,” he said.

Without thinking, Reki leaned further, finally noticing the fact that the board was in two pieces. No wonder Langa seemed out of breath, he couldn’t have ridden that here. It looked like something must’ve happened at the very end of the race with Joe, after Langa pulled that stunt with the metal beam. Maybe—

Reki caught himself before he started looking any closer and pulled back into his room.

“It’s late,” Reki said.

“Please?” Langa replied.

“No. Go _home.”_

Langa didn’t move. Stubbornly, he held the broken board out.

“Reki. _Please.”_

Reki rolled his eyes. “What, are you just going to stand out there all night if I don’t come look at it?”

“Maybe,” Langa said. Which, of course, meant that yeah, that was exactly what he was intending to do.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t care.”

“Just _go home.”_

_“No.”_

Reki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like this was giving him a headache. His resolve was cracking. He’d never been very good at saying no to Langa. He’d never found himself wanting to say no to him much, before all this.

He wasn’t going to make Langa stand outside all night. No matter how mad he was about the broken promise, how frustrated he was with Langa’s recklessness, how hurt he was about being left behind, Reki wasn’t going to do that.

“Fine. Fine! I’m not going to be able to sleep knowing that you’re just standing out here, so _fine._ I’ll take a look at the board. Just… I’ll meet you in the workshop.”

“Promise?”

Reki shot him a tired glare. “You don’t get to ask for promises.”

Langa held the board closer to himself and dropped his gaze. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll… be waiting for you.”

“Fine.”

Langa’s shoulders sagged at Reki’s clipped tone. He lingered for a moment, like there was something he wanted to say. Reki waited, but no words came, so he turned away, closing the window behind him.

He took one more deep breath in the safety of his room, rolling his shoulders. He’d just take a quick look at the board, enough to satisfy Langa, and then Langa would leave and it would be _over._

It was fine.

Langa waited by the door to the workshop, with a lingering fear that Reki wasn’t coming. Because if Reki wouldn’t even come to fix the board he’d put so much into making, maybe there really was no way Langa could get him to talk with him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t get Reki to talk. He wanted _so badly_ for them to be okay again. None of this was the same without Reki—none of it meant the same thing without him. None of it felt right.

It was a few minutes of waiting before Reki finally came, hanging his head to avoid meeting Langa’s gaze.

Reki flicked on the light as they both headed inside.

“You can just leave the board on the table,” Reki said. “And I can bring it to you at school.”

“No,” Langa said. “Can we do this now?”

Reki let out a soft sigh. “Figures. Fine.”

Langa laid the two pieces down carefully on the table and took a seat in the chair he and Reki had brought in for him, once he’d started hanging around so much while Reki worked. It felt like a good sign, that the chair was still here. Like there was still a place for him here.

It was less of a good sign that Reki still wouldn’t look at him, and that he pulled his own chair farther away, until the space between them felt chasmal.

Reki leaned over the two pieces, examining them.

“It’s not worth it,” he said, in a distant, professional tone. Like this was just _any_ board. “Just get a new one.”

Langa pulled his arms around himself, feeling stubborn and frustrated, and still confused. “I don’t want a new one, I want this one,” he insisted.

Reki sighed. “Then why don’t you just go to the skate shop tomorrow and get Oka to fix it?”

“I need _you_ to fix it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

Reki finally met his gaze, but it was only to shoot him a fleeting glare before he rolled his eyes. “The board is totally wrecked, Langa. Fixing it’s gonna be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s _worth_ the trouble,” Langa said, decisive.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re being unfair!”

Reki dragged a hand down his face. “So we’re doing this?” he muttered.

“I don’t know what _this_ is,” Langa said, a little helplessly. “You were _there_ tonight. Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“So this isn’t about the board anymore?” Reki said, his tone dry and tired. He drummed his fingers against the table like he was losing patience.

Maybe he was losing patience, but so was Langa. How were they supposed to fix anything like this?

“It _is_ about the board,” Langa said. “I love this board. I love it because you made it for me, and I don’t _want_ to buy a different one, and I don’t want to lose this one, and now it’s broken, and no one can fix it but you.”

Reki let out another sigh. All this, and he still wouldn’t just _look_ at Langa. “It’s just a board. They’re replaceable.”

“Not this one,” Langa said. “This one isn’t replaceable.”

Reki ran his finger over the wheel, letting it spin slowly. He didn’t say anything. He was just keeping his gaze on the broken pieces, his eyes glassy. He looked so tired, so distant, so _sad,_ and Langa…

“What can I do to fix it?” Langa asked.

“Thought I was supposed to fix the board,” Reki murmured.

“No, I mean… What can I do to make it up to you?” Langa pulled his chair just a little bit closer to Reki’s, not wanting to push his luck. Reki didn’t move away. “I’m sorry. Please.”

“Don’t,” Reki said quietly.

“Reki…”

“Just… don’t.” Reki scrubbed his hands down his face, leaning back and taking breath. He looked up at the ceiling, the artificial light catching on his eyes.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Langa saw the tears still caught in his eyelashes.

Langa wanted to reach out so badly, but he didn’t know how.

“If that’s what you came here for, you’re wasting your time,” Reki said. He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes like he was trying to cover up the tears. “Don’t bother apologizing, alright? It’s fine. I get it.”

“What do you mean _you get it?”_ Langa asked. He inched closer again. “I definitely don’t.”

“We don’t fit. It’s _fine._ Nothing we can do about it. It’s not important.”

“That’s not true. _None_ of that is true.”

Reki leaned against the table. And all Langa could think about was how long it had been since he’d really seen Reki smile. How did it get to this point? How had things gotten this broken between them? Was it all his fault?

There had to be something he could do.

“It doesn’t work anymore. Us.” Reki sighed. “You’re beyond me now.”

“What does that even mean?” Langa asked, frowning. He couldn’t grasp what was bothering Reki. It didn’t make any sense to him—how could he be _beyond_ Reki? All he wanted was to be _beside_ Reki.

“I don’t want to get left behind,” Reki said.

Langa blinked, trying to follow. “So you leave me behind first? How is that fair?”

“I’m not—that’s not what’s happening here.”

“Then what _is_ happening here?” Langa replied. He could feel himself getting more desperate, like everything he said could be the last thing Reki was willing to listen to. He didn’t know how to save what they’d had, and he was so _scared._ “Because it feels like you’re trying to get rid of me, and—and I _know_ I broke my promise, and I’m _sorry,_ but I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would make you _hate_ me. And if you could just _tell_ me how to make things okay again, I—”

Langa cut himself off, feeling like the lights were too bright.

The room felt very still for a moment, quiet enough that all Langa could hear was his own shaky breathing and racing pulse. The fear of losing Reki was twisting painfully in his chest. If he couldn’t find a way to make this better, to make them okay again, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Just the thought of it hurt.

Reki finally turned to him, fully meeting his gaze, his brow furrowed. His eyes were wide with something like worry, something like hurt.

“I don’t hate you,” Reki said, his tone low and serious.

Relief hit Langa in the chest and he let out a shaky, broken sigh. “You don’t?” he asked, voice as small as he felt.

“No, I—of _course_ I don’t.” This time, Reki was the one to move closer, shifting until their knees were just barely brushing. “You thought… you thought I hated you?”

“I didn’t _know,_ because I couldn’t get you to talk to me,” Langa said, just a note of pleading in his voice.

Reki’s hand twitched. Almost like he wanted to reach out as much as Langa did, but he didn’t know how either. Langa didn’t know what to do with that. He’d gotten used to relying on Reki’s bravery when it came to reaching out to one another.

“It’s not—look. It’s not all you,” Reki said, glancing away. “Your recklessness scares me. And I don’t… I can’t… I’m getting left behind, and I’m _always_ afraid of what’ll happen when you realize that I’m—” Reki cut off, shaking his head. Langa didn’t know what he was going to say. “And now, you’re… It’s like you’re just not afraid of getting hurt. But I _am._ I’m afraid you’ll get hurt, and I’m afraid you’ll keep leaving me behind, and… Taking myself out of the equation seems like the safest option.”

Langa studied Reki’s face, the way his mouth had twisted downward, the tension in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t understand all of what was wrong, but just seeing Reki hurting like this was its own kind of pain, and Langa wanted to do whatever he could to make the shadows over his expression go away.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Langa said. He wasn’t even sure how Reki could’ve thought that was ever an _option._

“You already _were_ leaving me behind,” Reki said, his voice breaking. “I can’t catch up to you, and I can’t match you, but fuck, Miya can, and Joe can, and I guess _Adam_ can—it’s just me, I’m the only one who isn’t… I’m not like the rest of you.”

“You’re… you’re _amazing,_ Reki,” Langa said, taken aback. The idea that anyone could think Reki was anything less than that was incomprehensible. “And what happened to it not being about winning? What happened to us just having _fun?”_

Reki met his gaze again, with a frustrated glare. “I don’t know, Langa, what _did_ happen to that? Because _you’re_ the one who decided skating against Adam was worth it, just to go up against someone that _good.”_

“It was worth it because it was exciting, it’s not worth _this!_ And it doesn’t even _matter_ if you’re not there, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Reki! I never wanted to leave you behind—I _want_ you there.” Langa sighed. He dropped his gaze away from Reki’s. He’d relied on Reki to reach out before. Maybe it was his turn. Slowly, a little awkwardly, Langa reached his hand towards Reki’s. When Reki didn’t move away, he laced their fingers together, more afraid than he’d ever been while skating. This kind of fall felt more precarious somehow. “I don’t want to _be_ _there_ without you. It doesn’t feel the same if you’re not with me.”

Reki was quiet, and his hand was still.

After a few moments, Langa worked up the courage to look back up at Reki’s face.

Tears were silently falling down his cheeks.

Langa’s eyes widened, a spike of panic in his chest. “Wait, I—did I say something wrong? Reki, I’m—I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Reki shook his head, squeezing Langa’s hand. “It’s okay, I’m okay, I just—”

He cut off, and _finally,_ he smiled. Langa couldn’t even process the breathless joy at seeing Reki smile again before Reki had leaned in, pressing his lips to Langa’s.

Langa had never kissed anyone before. He supposed if it always felt like this, he understood why the music swelled in those moments in movies.

Too soon, Reki pulled away again.

“There’s probably more left to say, but…” Reki smiled again, and Langa could’ve cried himself. “Do you want to just get some sleep? It might be easier in the morning.”

Langa smiled, feeling the fear uncoil in his chest.

He wasn’t losing Reki. No matter what else was left to say, that much was true.

“Okay,” he said, still a little breathless. He glanced down at the table. “What about the board?”

“I can look at it tomorrow,” Reki said. He looked at the broken pieces with a slight frown. “Maybe I should build you a new one.”

“I still want this one,” Langa said.

Reki let out a soft laugh, and Langa thought it might’ve been the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Okay,” Reki replied. “I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
